


Precipitation

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:45:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5190932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So maybe this year there are things about winter that Liu’s actually looking forward to—or at least not dreading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precipitation

**Author's Note:**

> happy liuhimu day!

The sky has been threatening rain all week, clouds oversaturated with moisture like a chemistry experiment about to freeze in the beaker and a sense of inevitability in the air—except the seemingly-inevitable rain still hasn’t come. But this is Akita in the fall; the rain is ultimately unavoidable, and when they step out of the gym after evening practice it’s pounding down, drops striking the puddles and the gutters and the wet ground turning into a bog as they watch from under the overhang.

Neither one of them has an umbrella, of course.

“Want to make a break for it?” says Himuro.

His breath is visible, puffs of condensation hanging in the air to match the stark bright grey of the clouds above them. His hand works its way into the center of Liu’s palm; his fingers are already colder than the air.

Liu nods, and then they’re off into the rain. Their feet smack down against the ground’s slimy coat of half-rotten leaves, sending up curtains of water to wash over each other’s school shoes. The water makes its way down Liu’s sock and he swears under his breath; it’s cold and clammy and gross and the worst part of the season (besides the fact that it ends in winter). The rain is coming down even harder now; the incessant patter of drops against the metal gutters of the school buildings is now a constant drone of water against metal. Himuro skids to a stop in front of a large puddle that at this point is more of a small pond in the middle of the quad. They’re right next to the chapel, and under the arch by the side door seems relatively untouched by the rain—Liu pulls them under, pressing his arms closer to his sides to manufacture more warmth. And once they’re in there, he pulls Himuro flush against him.

Even though the front of Himuro’s sweater is soaked, Liu can still feel the pulsing warmth of his torso beneath—he jokes that Himuro’s his own personal space heater sometimes, but it’s close to the truth, and one of the many reasons having him around in the late year is so damn great. Himuro looks up; his breath is now directed onto Liu’s neck.

“It’s only going to get worse,” says Himuro.

Liu grimaces. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to enjoy it now.”

Himuro’s hair is stuck to his face; his cheeks are glowing faintly pink (or it could just be the shitty lightbulb here that’s halfway to burned-out). He raises Liu’s hand to his mouth and kisses his thumb. Liu starts; his mouth is so very warm and his lips are so very soft that even when his fingers are all numbing he feels it acutely. And Himuro’s gaze flickers up to his, and fuck—it’s too cute. It’s too much for right here, even though there’s no way they’ll get caught at this time of night. They’re too far away from the dorms, too isolated and too damn cold. Himuro moves to his index finger, and this is way too much like foreplay to be comfortable—Liu grabs his hand away; Himuro’s eye sparks (or maybe it’s the light again—but no, it’s too dim) and Liu recognizes that look he gets when he’s not trying too hard to bite back a smile.

“Come on. We’re going to get wet anyway,” Liu says.

* * *

“It’s below freezing today,” Himuro says through a yawn.

It’s easy to believe, if the way the air is hitting his bare shoulder (like a superpowered ice gun) is any indication—but Liu can still hear the sound of water rolling around in the gutters outside. Winter may be just around the corner and the weather may be bitter, but Himuro’s fooled him this way enough times before that Liu’s not just going to take his word for it (and he would also very much like for it not to be the case—even here, mid-November’s too early for this shit).

With a sigh, Liu extracts his entire arm from under the covers and reaches for his phone. He checks the weather app, and then refreshes it—it’s still about five degrees above freezing (which is still not enough). He kicks Himuro’s ankle under the blankets.

“Ass. Say that enough and it’ll come true.”

Himuro grins. “I don’t mind all that much myself.”

Liu drops his phone onto the carpet and buries his whole body deep under the covers, particularly his cold arm. This part isn’t so bad, having Himuro’s warm limbs tangled with his under the covers and the time to put everything else off until later—it’s in short supply, though, and real winter is still yet to come.

* * *

Perhaps the reason Himuro does so well with the cold and snow is because he’s like them, but a little bit softer where some of winter’s worst edges fall. It’s got nothing to do with his name (or maybe it does; maybe it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts)—it’s just the way he is. Because despite his physical warmth, he’s so cold sometimes, covering up most of himself with an icy veneer that’s impossible to pierce unless you know exactly where to put the pressure (and Liu never does). He’s impossible to pin down, too; the threads of him are like snowflakes floating through the air in incalculable trajectories and it’s so easy to lose sight of the part you were searching for and it gets mixed up with all the rest of him once again and can’t be found again. And he hides things, things he doesn’t even let escape to that degree. (Liu’s still not allowed to look under his bangs very often, or touch that chain around his neck even accidentally.)

But he’s bright like the snow, too; he’s dazzlingly beautiful in light and under dark, but much more resilient than the trampled and refrozen snow from the paths stomped down from students’ filthy boots. And in some ways he’s unlike the snow at all, so warm and solid, and when he melts into Liu’s touch it’s rare and never a complete yield.

And Liu hates the snow and the cold and everything about winter, particularly winter here, but he doesn’t dislike Himuro—and being with him makes the winter so much more bearable. He can convince Himuro to stay in bed on the weekends longer, even though he technically has student council duties, and they can bake in the kitchen without feeling like they’re going to die drenched in their own sweat from being around the oven and they can stir the cake batter together, Himuro’s hand covering Liu’s as he shows him the exact right way to stir. They can take baths together and warm each other up again afterwards, lying under the covers together while the radiator hisses in the background like a dying snake.

So maybe this year there are things about winter that Liu’s actually looking forward to—or at least not dreading.

* * *

“You know, this year…I don’t think I’ll mind the winter this much.”

“That so?” says Himuro, leaning closer. “Will you really say that once the snow gets here?”

A snowflake drifts down from the sky; Liu takes Himuro’s hand. It’s apparently the answer that Himuro was looking for; he lets a satisfied smile take over his face (and it’s cute enough for Liu to wait a while before trying to kiss it off).


End file.
